


In Which Starscream Ruins Tarn's Afternoon

by fascinationex



Series: transformers fics by fascinationex [20]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Crush, M/M, Pining, Unrequited, any room in which tarn meets megatron needs to be mopped after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:22:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23170009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fascinationex/pseuds/fascinationex
Summary: Flashfic for the prompt: "👀 Can I trouble you for some Starscream Openly Flirting With Megatron In Front Of Tarn?"Yes, yes you can.
Relationships: Megatron/Starscream (Transformers), One-sided Tarn/Megatron
Series: transformers fics by fascinationex [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1311599
Comments: 21
Kudos: 114





	In Which Starscream Ruins Tarn's Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Virtualnemesis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virtualnemesis/gifts).



Tarn loved reporting directly and personally to Megatron. 

A lot of the time, his work took him far away from Megatron, and rarely had he been permitted to come into his presence to report—why should he, when he could so easily do it remotely?

But an image, no matter how large the screen, couldn't truly transmit the perfect detail that was Megatron looming over Tarn's abased form. No matter the audio quality, it couldn't deliver every nuance and layer of Megatron's voice, and it never captured the soft hum and click of his internal systems. 

In person, Tarn was forced to notice how Megatron's frame made the sounds of a mechanism used to hard, rough work; he could see the minute scuffs and markings that told of long hours of labour.

Tarn had sharpened his claws and polished his own plating until it gleamed. He felt a little bit self conscious for it now, with Megatron's optics burning like dying stars beneath his heavy brow, fixed on him. He was powerfully aware of the differences between them, and he wondered how Megatron judged him.

He hoped... His own wild, internal fantasies aside, he hoped for his report to be well-received. 

The very idea of Megatron's approval made him pleasantly uncomfortable. And excited. ...And, embarrassingly, a little wet. 

He wanted so badly to be judged by Megatron, and to be found worthy. 

His vocaliser smoothly related the state of his work, tallying up dead traitors and progress in tracking the more serious (and wily) offenders, but his processor was buzzing, awash, his entire sensory system alight like Megatron's gaze was its first taste of energon in a decade.

He wanted—

There was a clatter. Another clatter, he should say, because it was far from the first.

Megatron's gaze jumped, _again_. Tarn felt it like a physical loss, like a ship between him and the nearest star, throwing him into shade.

He _wanted_ Starscream to leave the accursed room, and to stop pretending to be clumsy. 

Tarn didn't need to turn around this time. He already know he'd see the seeker's long legs with their gleaming thrusters—polished to the nines while his lord stood scuffed, no shame at all—and his aft in the air while he picked whatever nonsense he'd 'accidentally' knocked over aside up, slowly and laboriously. 

If Starscream had _really_ been that clumsy he'd never have been allowed to command so much as a single unit in combat. Ranks in the Decepticon army were not ceremonial.

Megatron's red gaze was ...faintly glassy. And fixed on Starscream, and definitely not on Tarn.

Tarn had spent a lot of time writing this report. He'd practiced it. He'd polished his delivery by making it to his team, and they'd been an appreciative audience.

His fuel pump thumped, and his fuel tank seemed oddly cold.

Megatron was just... bored, Tarn insisted to himself. He was bored with Starscream's transparent and base attempts to distract him from Tarn's report. 

Never mind that Tarn would give his left arm to have Megatron stare at him with half the intensity he reserved for Starscream's aft—

No. This was beneath him. (Never mind that _nothing_ was beneath him, for Megatron's sake, as he had proven again and again.) "Sir," he said, very, very gently.

Megatron's optics snapped back to Tarn's, where they met his (finally!) behind his mask.

The moment of connection seemed to last forever. Tarn felt as though those optics burned him from the inside out. His sensory system was icy and hot with them, and if he had not been kneeling already his knees might have unhinged. 

He shifted, and denied the request to open his vents. No. It would disrupt this perfect, aching moment of connection. _Let_ his internals overheat. He could not interr—

"Tarn," said Megatron. 

Tarn felt the sound of his name—his new name, this grand and powerful one, that grim, dark and beautiful Decepticon stronghold, the city of his lord's creation—all the way down his spinal strut. He trembled.

"Send the rest of your report to me," Megatron said. "Something's just come up." 

Tarn didn't hesitate. "Of course," he said, ignoring the nagging voice that said that whatever had just come up was almost certainly Megatron's spike. Megatron was a dedicated leader taking a report from one of his most loyal and faithful subordinates. He would never send him away just to—

Tarn caught Starscream's narrow, inviting smile from the corner of his field of view as he turned to leave. 

Megatron wouldn't, Tarn reasoned.

Or—Or if he did, there was some deeper reason for it. Megatron was not obligated to share all—or any, much to Tarn's private, buried frustration—of his plans with Tarn.

He would send Starscream away too, unless he needed him for the urgent situation that had surely just arisen.

(Tarn did not stay to find out if Starscream left after him.)

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked something, please feel free to let me know in a comment :)


End file.
